


Devour What's Truly Yours

by Alliecat88



Series: How Unreasonably in Love I Am [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliecat88/pseuds/Alliecat88
Summary: After the mountain, Jaskier and Geralt try to find a way back to what they were before. But a contract in a small village may just damage their relationship even further.Prompt filled from the Witcher Kinkmeme
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: How Unreasonably in Love I Am [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700005
Comments: 66
Kudos: 689





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Geralt cant keep himself away from Jaskier and eventually snaps. He fucks him all night at an inn, Jaskier barely conscious halfway through from overstimulation.
> 
> +++ if it involves excessive amounts of cum.  
> \+ if jaskier goes from panicked and begging in the start to quietly crying and sobbing out a barely audible “please....” towards the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to my little fic, my first for the Witcher fandom. This prompt sort of grabbed me and it kind of took off after that.  
> The first two chapters were in response to the prompt but everything after takes on a more plot driven narrative with an ending I hope you enjoy! Please leave a kudo or a comment and happy reading!

Chapter 1

Their fight on the mountain had left the relationship between the two men strained. Geralt had fumbled through a barely worded apology after which Jaskier had plastered on a fake smile and waved it away. But the tension, the hurt, was still palpable and as they traveled father from the mountain and closer to the next town Geralt swore it only got worse.

They had been traveling for days on end, stopping only to make camp at night, and Geralt was just about at his wit’s end with the bard. His silence was grating in a way that Geralt couldn’t describe, and the lack of his usual rambunctious attitude and bawdy music only served to irritate him more.

“Is it much further Geralt? I fear my poor feet can no longer carry the weight of my weary body one step more,” the bard asked quietly

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled in irritation, looking down at the bard who walked next to him as he rode on Roach. Jaskier sighed and continued to trudge on, his eyes avoiding the witcher’s gaze.

Geralt scowled and looked away; slightly ashamed of his sharp response to the bard’s first words in hours. He sighed and cleared his throat before looking back down at the younger man.

“Should be only a little further I think.” Jaskier merely nodded without even looking up, his hands fiddling with the straps for his lute. Geralt looked away, trying to find some way to ease the tension the stopped Roach to look down at Jaskier once more.

“Do you want to ride Roach until we get there?” Jaskier’s eyes shot up to meet Geralt’s, mouth open in surprise before he caught himself and quickly turned back to face forward again, feet still walking

“Oh no, Geralt I couldn’t. Besides,” he flashed a small smile, genuine for once, “I don’t think she likes me much.” Geralt frowned before looking straight ahead again.

Since the mountain, it felt like everything Geralt did was wrong. Jaskier seemed to be a shadow of the bard he’d once been. No incessant questions as they walked and no offers of songs at night by the campfire. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time Jaskier had looked him in the eyes after they left the mountain, until today at least. They were still a bright clear blue though slightly wet , and Geralt found he missed the bard’s smiling face; his eyes dancing as he played a jaunty tune, or gaze soft as he strummed lightly before bed smiling up at Geralt.

They continued their journey in silence once more and soon the town could be seen on the horizon. Jaskier visibly brightened at the sight of civilization after almost a week on the road alone. As they approached, a small group of people noticed them and immediately began to walk forward. Jaskier glanced up at Geralt who sighed and slid down off of Roach. The first town they’d seen in ages and there seemed to be a monster problem with it.

“Witcher?” The man in the front asked. He was an older gentleman, more than likely the alderman of the town, his face pale with fear and anxiety. Geralt nodded as he walked up to the small group of people. Relief flashed across the man’s face as he fished for something on his belt, finally locating a small coin purse which he handed over to the taller man. Geralt opened it and glanced inside before grunting and closing it to toss to Jaskier. Jaskier gasped and fumbled the catch before tucking the coin purse on his own belt.

“What am I hunting?” The group all glanced over at each other before turning back to the traveling pair.

“A sorceress, sir. She has tormented this town for months, taking refuge in an old farmer’s mill just east of town. We have tried to appease her, but every messenger we have sent has not come back. Not sane, at least.” The alderman mumbles at the end before looking up at Geralt. “Will you help sir?”

“Has anyone actually died?” The group shake their heads. “Mm.” Geralt turns to Jaskier who is waiting quietly by Roach, his gaze firmly on the ground.

“Jaskier.” The bard winced as if the witcher had yelled before looking up at him. “Go to the tavern and get us a room and stay there. All of you stay here and I will return after meeting this sorceress.” Geralt addressed the small group of village folks before gathering his equipment and heading off. And if he was disappointed that Jaskier did not even ask to go with him part of the way, then he didn’t show it.

Geralt trudged throughd the wooded area, before he came upon the mill the villager mentioned. He could smell the magic in the air and approached the door slowly as it opened for him.

“Hmm,” Geralt said as he walked in, silver sword drawn. The door shut firmly behind him but he ignored it in favor of walking down the short hallway to the only room that had light shining from behind its door. He stepped in to see a young man sitting at a small table covered in scrolls and parchments. The young man had dark curls and his dark eyes tracked the witcher’s movements into the room with mild disinterest.

“A witcher. I’ve never actually met one of you in person.” He said as he looked back down at his papers.

“You’re not a sorceress.” Geralt said as he paused in the middle of the room, silver sword in hand but not at ready. The young man laughed, the action brightening his features and showing Geralt just how handsome he was.

“Is that what they said? Well I suppose I may have gone overboard with my illusions on the poor men.” Geralt frowned and moved a little closer to the mage, looking for a weakness.

“What have you done to them?”

“Nothing they didn’t want I assure you,” the man smirked as he jotted down some notes on a scroll.

“I used to specialize in illusions and mind tricks, but there are so many things we aren’t allowed to do,” he whined as he sat back in his chair, “so many rules and I just wanted to see how far I could go. I knew I could be the most powerful illusionist if they had let me.” The young man practically growled the final part, the air crackling around him with energy.

“What have you done to them?” Geralt repeated, hand tightening on his sword. The mage rolled his eyes.

“A bit of illusion magic, a bit of tweaking in the mind and they would have the courage to finally go after the one thing they’ve always wanted. Is it my fault that it drove the men mad?” Geralt gritted his teeth.

“Yes.”The mage laughed again, but this time it was an ugly laugh full of hate.

“Men are weak witcher, you know this. I came to this town wanting to help these ungrateful people, wanting a quiet place to work and study. But they hired a group of men to drive me out,” here the young man turned to look at Geralt, dark eyes hard and cold, “men who knew how to capture a mage. They had their fun with me for days before I could break free and return the favor.”

“You would punish a village for one group of animals?” The temperature dropped as the mage pushed up to his feet, a wild look in his eyes.

“I would punish the entire fucking world witcher,” he said quietly before flicking his wrist and chanting a spell. Geralt found himself thrown against the wall, a painful pressure holding him there by his arms and calves. The mage walked up to Geralt, studying him with an intense look. Geralt bared his teeth as he struggled in his invisible bonds, chest heaving with the effort.

“You are just like them aren’t you? You came to kill me, but I have a special enchantment just for you witcher. The people say your kind are all animals, just like those men, so why not show them just what kind of animal you are hmm? What does the great witcher Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, desire?” The mage placed his palm on the Geralt’s head and in a flash of light began to sift through his mind.

“Stop, don’t.” Geralt said through clenched teeth as he fought the invasion. But as soon as he spoke the pain was gone, and the mage was smiling as he began to chant the words to his spell. Geralt could feel his skin begin to flush, his clothes suddenly felt too itchy and tight. As he slipped into darkness he had only one thought on his mind.

“Jaskier…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the "The Unwanted Animal" by The Amazing Devil


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have finished so far. Working on another chapter with Geralt getting revenge on the mage and our bard getting some much needed comfort. Stay tuned and please drop a comment or kudo if you like!

Chapter 2

“Play us a song bard!” The tavern cheered at Jaskier, urging him up from his place in the corner eating his meager meal that the serving girl had provided. He sighed as he pasted on a brilliant smile and began to play an upbeat tune. 

The village’s spirits had increased tremendously since Geralt left to fight their mage. Jaskier had ordered a room with two beds and a hot meal for himself. His feet and legs ached from the miles of walking and he enjoyed the small comfort a decent chair and hot bowl of stew provided his tired body. He had just dipped a piece of bread into his bowl when a man’s voice rang out requesting a song. Not wanting to disappoint the villagers, they were paying them after all, Jaskier played until his fingers were sore and the tavern was all but empty. 

lt was late now and there were only a few patrons left so Jaskier went back to his now cold food and devoured it, stopping to see the owner for his pay and making his way upstairs to their room. When he finally noted the time he grew worried for Geralt. He should have been back by now, the hero of the day. Jaskier sighed as he stripped down, getting into bed in his undershirt and a pair of loose sleeping pants. Geralt was probably fine. It wasn’t like the witcher needed him, quite the opposite actually he was apparently nothing but a burden to the man.

He sighed again as he rolled onto his back, his mind racing with thoughts of how to fix what he’d done to Geralt, how much he’d ruined his life. In between his musings he heard heavy footsteps approach his room and then enter. He sat up to see Geralt with his back to Jaskier, pulling off his swords and armor.

“Geralt?”

“Not now Jaskier.” The bard flinched back at the strained and icy tone but he was determined to check on his friend, even if the man did not consider him more than a nuisance.

“Are you hurt? Is the mage dead? What happ-” Jaskier yelped as he found a rather large hand around his neck, cutting off his questions. His hands immediately shot up to claw at the iron grip on his throat, blue eyes wide as he looked up at Geralt with genuine fear.

“You never shut up do you?” Jaskier’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish gasping for breath, his legs now kicking at Geralt who stood as still as stone while he watched the bard fight for air. He squeezed the delicate throat, taking in the younger man’s panicked eyes and pretty pink mouth which was starting to turn a shade of blue. He let go, dropping Jaskier to the floor where he wheezed and coughed for breath and began to crawl for the door.

“Ger…Surrr…yy. Pleees,” Jaskier begged as he tried to make his escape only to be dragged back by his ankle to his bed. What little oxygen he had been able to get into his body left as he was thrown on the bed harshly, landing in a tangled heap with Geralt’s weight suddenly pressing him down.

Jaskier fought, punching and kicking out at the man he was supposed to trust. He pleaded, his voice half wrecked as he realized what Geralt planned to do when the witcher began to unbuckle his own pants.

“No, no please!” Jaskier gasped in shock as his head whipped to the side, a red mark on his cheek showing where Geralt had just slapped him. He lay there in a daze for a few moments, enough time for Geralt to turn Jaskier over to rip his sleeping bottoms right off and bind his hands behind him with the fabric of his pants. He settled his large thighs on the outside of Jaskier’s, using his weight to keep him pinned down unable to move.

Jaskier tried to scream for help but the witcher just pushed his face into the bedding, muffling his noises. Not that Jaskier could scream; he could feel his throat beginning to swell and bruise. He turned his head to the side for some much needed air and tried to reason with his friend once more.

“I know this isn’t you,” he croaked as he felt Geralt’s cock slide in between his cheeks, the sensation making him shudder in fear.

He had seen Geralt naked before, close quarters with another man meant little privacy. He knew that Geralt was one of the biggest men, if not the biggest, he had ever seen and while Jaskier had been with men before, the idea of taking Geralt like this, against his will and with no preparation, had him trembling in fear.

“You don’t know anything bard.” He froze as Geralt leaned down and placed his nose at the nape of his neck, breathing in his scent for a moment. He thrust his hips, rubbing himself on Jaskier as the smell of fear and hurt mixed with the bard's own pleasant flowery scent filled his nostrils, acting almost as an aphrodisiac ramping up his desire.

“I have wanted you for so long,” he groaned and Jaskier let out a sharp sob at that before Geralt’s hand closed around his throat from behind.

“Smell so good, always smell so good Jas.” He forced Jaskier’s legs apart and settled between them, using his calves to keep his prey spread open for him and unable to move more than a wriggle. Jaskier could feel tears slip down his cheeks. 

The gods had a sense of humor it seemed. He had wanted Geralt since the moment he’d laid eyes on him but had always refrained from taking anything past flirting and now he would have him after all. Now, when his heart was still fragile and hurting from Geralt’s abuse, when Geralt’s true feelings had made themselves known would he have his wish granted. It seemed Geralt only saw him as another lay, an annoying nuisance that he put up with because he lusted after him. Jaskier couldn’t hold back a wail as he realized this, and received another slap for his inability to keep quiet this time on his ass.

“Be good for me Jas, need you to be good, need you so bad," Geralt groaned as he finally pushed his leaking cock into the crying bard.

Jaskier tried to relax, to make it easier, but between his aching throat and his broken heart he couldn’t do anything but cry as he felt Geralt force his way into him, possibly tearing something inside. He choked on a sob as he felt Geralt bottom out, the witcher’s cock stretching him impossibly wide it seemed. He clenched his hands in the fabric of Geralt’s undershirt, needing something to ground him as his vision swam and he pleaded for Geralt to wait, just wait.

“G-Geralt p-p-please , please I-I need, y-you need,” he whined when Geralt pushed his face into a pillow, holding him down and cutting off his pleas, as he used his other arm to raise Jaskier’s hips at a better angle to begin to thrust into the younger man. 

The pace was unforgiving and harsh, Geralt’s hips slamming into Jaskier with all his strength, bruising his ass and thighs as they slapped against each other. Jaskier squirmed and cried into the bed at the pain before Geralt’s arm moved once more, this time to his own soft cock which slowly began to grow as Geralt began to stroke it, his grip tight and bordering on pain more than pleasure. Jaskier shook his head frantically. He didn’t want to enjoy this, not like this, not with Geralt so angry with him that he was taking him by force, taking what Jaskier would have given happily and freely.

“No, don’t! Geralt please, I can’t do this please stop!” The witcher merely ignored him and continued his harsh treatment. He forced Jaskier into different angles until he felt the bard tense when he moved him so that his back was almost perfectly arched, the witcher’s hand once again holding him down. 

He groaned as Jaskier whined in pleasure, body tensing around Geralt’s long cock, hitting places inside him no one else had; it almost made him nauseous how deep the witcher was inside him. Geralt maintained his pace, deep and harsh strokes that were so fast Jaskier could swear the man’s cock never left his now reddened and abused hole.

He was now leaking onto the bed and he cried harder when he finally came with Geralt’s hand practically milking him, his cock carving its way into his body. Jaskier could feel his cum run down his thighs, Geralt’s hand smearing it down to his balls which he squeezed softly, making the bard whine. He shuddered as Geralt sped up slightly before grunting out, his hands tightening on Jaskier’s sack and the nape of his neck, pressing down Jaskier into the bedding painfully and cutting off his air.

His hips didn’t stop as Jaskier felt him spend inside him, cock shooting again and again until it ran down the back of his thighs onto the bed. Jaskier prayed to Melitele that he was done and would leave Jaskier to his shame and pain.

But Geralt showed no signs of stopping, or even slowing down and Jaskier wailed as the hand on him and the monster shoving its way into his sensitive hole kept him on his orgasmic high for too long. The witcher was forcing pleasure onto him, Jaskier could feel his length twitching wildly as Geralt kept him just on the brink. He couldn’t come down and he could feel his mind cracking and his eyesight dimming until Geralt finally let go of his once again erect cock.

Jaskier had a brief moment of peace before he let out a shocked scream, or what would have been a scream if his voice was not almost completely gone now, as Geralt slapped his aching cock. He writhed as the witcher smacked him again and again, his voice cracking as he pleaded with the older man.

“Fu-Fuck! Geralt! Stop, please! Hurts,” Jaskier cried, his hands spasming around the damp shirt Geralt wore, wet with sweat from his body and Jaskier’s trembling back. Jaskier sighed as Geralt’s hands moved down to his hips, but gasped as he dragged the bard back harshly into his own thrusts.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed out as he drank in the sight of the younger man beneath him.

The bard was shaking from head to toe, his body shone with sweat, skin flush and eyes bright as he steadfastly refused to make eye contact with the witcher. Geralt raised a hand up to push the hair from the slighter man’s face to get a better look. Geralt grabbed Jaskier's chin and wretched his head back, forcing him to look at the witcher. Brilliant gold met bright, wet blue before Geralt leaned down and Jaskier gasped as his mouth covered his own, tongue slipping inside for a taste of the man pinned beneath him. The sweetness of the bard mixed with his salty tears was like ambrosia and Geralt pulled back with a groan, hips speeding up, something Jaskier didn’t know was possible.

“Wanted you for so long, now you’re mine, keep you like this forever.”

When Geralt once again moved his hand down to Jaskier’s aching cock, he grinned as the bard couldn’t help but move back from the touch and onto Geralt’s own length. He was all but silent now, only harsh gasps and the occasional soft ‘please’ as Geralt brought him closer to the peak of pleasure. Jaskier shook with fatigue, his body tired and aching as the witcher pushed him past his limits. His tears had dried up and it was all he could do to stifle his voice to avoid ruining it anymore as he felt his pleasure crest.

“Take you whenever I want, however I want, everyday Jas, fuck,” Geralt said as the bard tightened around him once more, cock spilling onto the already drenched sheets below. Geralt breathed deeply as he continued thrusting into the now exhausted and quiet man, blue eyes fluttering as he fought unconsciousness.

Geralt kept going well into the night, spilling himself inside the bard over and over, hands leaving bruises and red marks all over his younger companion. The older man reveled in rubbing his spend across Jaskier’s thighs and ass, practically scenting the bard to ensure when this was done there would be no mistaking who he belonged to.

Geralt finally came one last time, his teeth marking Jaskier's shoulder and making the bard whimper, the first sound he’d made in over an hour. Jaskier lay there trying to breathe as Geralt rested on his back, his mouth forming the last word he would say in a very long time. “Please.”

As the witcher came down from his high, his mind began to clear and the heat that had sat just under his skin began to cool and the weight of just exactly what he had done crashed down on him. In his rush to remove himself from the bard he pulled himself out too harshly making Jaskier cry out in pain. He tied himself back into his breeches, trying to avoid looking at his still wet and swollen cock.

He untied Jaskier with trembling fingers, eyes closing as he saw how raw and red the skin was on his wrists. No doubt from how much the younger man had struggled in his attempts to escape. Once his arms were free the bard immediately curled into a small ball, hands shaking as he pulled a dirty blanket over his naked body. He kept his eyes closed and turned away from Geralt.

“Jaskier?” Geralt stood next to the bed hands out and eyes wide as he attempted to speak to the bard. Jaskier flinched away from the sound of his voice and Geralt stepped back immediately before nodding and stepping out the door and down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets some much needed cleaning up and wound care, unfortunately not by Geralt. He will make an appearance next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! There was quite the outcry at the end of the last chapter so here is another one! Sorry but Geralt felt it prudent to not bother Jaskier so soon but he will return!
> 
> This story is going to get long on me I think...
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudo if you are enjoying!

Chapter 3

Jaskier held his breath as he listened to Geralt’s footsteps fade away, his body relaxing slightly when he could no longer hear them. He let out a sharp sigh as he curled up tighter. His hands clutched the thin blanket around his body, knuckles white with the strain. He couldn’t stop trembling, the very movement making the bed shake a little. Jaskier tried to relax his breathing, tried to will himself to get up to assess the damage that had been done. But every time he went to move it was like he was paralyzed, struck still with the first shock of genuine fear he’d felt in a long time. 

Traveling with Geralt was the adventure of a lifetime, like something out his wild fantasy storied he’d loved as a child. But in his romantic fantasizing of the life Geralt lived, he had forgotten the very real danger and horror that existed there as well; the pain and sorrow that followed it. Geralt had made that particularly clear at the mountain and now again it seemed Jaskier had still not learned and needed to be told once more. The bard sent a silent message out to the universe that yes he had quite learned his lesson now and would not need further correcting please and thank you. With this last thought Jaskier finally pushed himself up only to shrink back as a knock came on the door and in popped one of the inn’s girls.

“Pardon me sir, I was told to bring you a hot bath and to ask whether you would like to see our local healer? She always tends to our girls after rough nights, she’s well good with her herbs.” Jaskier would have laughed if his throat didn’t throb and ache every time he so much as breathed. 

Why wouldn’t they think he was a whore? They had seen him walk into town with Geralt, they were sharing a room together even. They had to have heard what happened in here, as rough as it may have sounded Jaskier had definitely seen and heard worse in brothels. That was why no one had come to help him as he had sobbed and wailed last night, why this young girl’s face was twisted into a mix of pity and condescension. 

He nodded as he realized she was waiting for a response. She nodded back and opened the door wider, dragging in a small empty wooden tub. Jaskier merely sat and watched as she dragged in bucket after bucket of hot water until an older woman showed up with a satchel over her shoulder. She walked up to Jaskier slowly but with purpose as she placed her pack on the bed by his legs. 

“Angelika.” She said as she looked over the small amount of skin the bard was showing, the rest covered by the dirty blanket. When the girl came the next time to pour water, seeing it was full enough, the healer dismissed her in order to give her and the young bard some privacy.

“Show me boy. I won’t hurt you.” She said this a little bit softer and quieter and Jaskier trembled as he dropped the blanket, letting it pool on his lap. The woman pursed her lips as she took in his appearance. 

The bard’s face held a now bruising swell on his cheek where Geralt had slapped him, smaller bruises and a rather bright red bite mark covered his shoulder. Random marks and scratches covered his torso and Jaskier let out a small whimper when the healer pulled down the blanket showing his hips which showed two very large bruises shaped like the witcher’s hands, and a little past his thighs which were also bruised and filthy with the witcher’s and how own spend.

Jaskier’s cock was red and slightly swollen as it lay on his stomach and he saw the small woman’s lips tighten as she took in his neck. Jaskier’s eyes filled with tears as he placed a hand on his neck, a question bright in his eyes. The healer smiled at this and began to take out potions and herbs from her satchel.

“It will all heal just fine boy. Though that bite will most likely to scar,” she looked at him with pity this time as she got up and began to pour different bottles into the small tub. 

“Into the bath bard. Give yourself a good wash while these are in here and it will help with the pain and swelling, then I can see about that throat and that bite.” She began to lay out what she would need next as Jaskier washed himself quickly and quietly with the soap and rag provided by the inn, not able or wanting to ask for his bath supplies. He didn’t much feel like looking or smelling pretty right now, he just wanted to feel clean. 

He hissed as he swept the rough towel between his cheeks and closed his eyes tight as the tub began to turn a dirty rust color. He cleaned down there quickly before he scrubbed his head and dunked it a few times before clearing his throat and looking at the woman. The healer passed him a towel and, despite having already seen him naked, turned away when he stepped out and wrapped the towel around his lower body. He walked over to the clean bed and lay back, trembling a little, when she motioned for him to. She kept the towel covering his groin but asked that he lay his arms at his side and lay still while she helped him. Jaskier swallowed but nodded.

She was quiet as she methodically worked on each wound. Re-cleaning the bite and pressing a poultice to it before moving onto his neck. Here she rubbed a salve that smelled of rosemary, chamomile and other plants Jaskier couldn’t name and he tried not to wince as she covered his swollen skin. She then moved down to his hips and Jaskier let out an audible sigh when she rubbed the salve there as well. She helped him sit up; making him groan as he moved his aching body into an upright position, then gave him a small jar of that same salve and another containing some kind of cream. 

“Use that salve every day for a week on all the bruises and your neck. It will take some time but you should be singing again in a couple weeks bard.” He held up the cream and quirked up a brow. She quirked an eyebrow back.

“I would have thought you wanted to take care of that area yourself lad, and also use it if he gets rough like that with you again.” She narrowed her eyes as she watched him shrink back in horror, his eyes wide and face pale as he thought of having to endure that again.

“Well, just in case. I have heard witcher’s are not the gentlest of creatures. If this was the first time, I doubt it will be the last, unless you plan on leaving him?” Here she studied his face as he stared at her, his eyes wide and hurt before he looked away down at the small jars in his palms and curled his fingers over both. She just nodded as she walked back to her satchel putting back her supplies.

“Your witcher paid for my services. Have a good day bard, may the gods watch over you.” She said as she closed the door quietly before leaving Jaskier alone again. Jaskier let out a breath he hadn’t even know he’d been holding before collapsing back on to the bed; eyes threatening to overflow with tears he hadn’t known he still had in him. 

The healer’s words had his mind racing, the implication that this not only would happen again but that Jaskier would need healing again. Jaskier hadn’t even had time to contemplate that it had happened in the first place, much less that it could happen again. Geralt had as much as said so himself as he’d…when he’d….he had said it earlier and Jaskier had forgotten. Last night was a long, exhausting, painful blur and Jaskier had sort of blanked out on it while the healer had worked her magic. But now that he was alone again everything came back to the forefront and the bard found himself curled up once more as he rocked back and forth on the bed, quiet gasps the only noise his throat could make. 

It was well past afternoon when Jaskier lifted his trembling body from the bed, putting down the salve jar so he could open the cream. His lower body was now a dull throb and he groaned as he reached behind himself to spread the cream along his reddened and swollen flesh, a relieved sob leaving his mouth as the cream began to work. He stood up when finished and walked over to his pack, placing the jars with his bathroom supplies and pulling out a fresh shirt and loose trousers. He was about to sit back down on the bed when there was a soft knock on the door and Jaskier froze before the face of the young girl from before poked in again.

“Pardon again sir, we were told to offer you food in your room when it was time for dinner. Would you like an ale as well?” Jaskier nodded and waited until the young girl came knocking again and then smiled at her in thanks before taking the tray from her and settling back on the bed. The stew was hot and although some pieces were too thick for Jaskier to swallow without breaking up first, his empty stomach couldn’t complain. He avoided the bread, not wanting to scratch his already tender throat and gulped down the ale before placing the now empty cup and bowl on the tray by the door. 

Jaskier picked up his lute and sat down on bed, wincing as he tried to get in a spot comfortable enough to both play in and to avoid his sores. When he finally found it he went to strum the instrument and found his hand was shaking too hard to do it. He stared at it. Shaking it sharply to stop the tremble but it didn’t go away and Jaskier threw his lute on the bed in frustration, a dull thwang echoing through the room as it bounced a little.

He sobbed, head in hands as he now realized that Geralt had taken so much from him in the span of one night. He couldn’t even play his lute, the one thing other than singing that brought him any comfort in this miserable world, his livelihood. How did that witcher expect him to make a living when he could no longer depend on himself, when he now had to depend on the man who had hurt him in the first place? Maybe that had been his plan? But why, when Jaskier would have followed him to the ends of the world, would have spent every second with him had he but said the word.

Jaskier cried for what felt like the hundredth time that day, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his own quiet tears. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, missing when Geralt finally came back to the room, just after nightfall. He didn’t see as the witcher gathered his armor and weapons together and slipped back out, but not before stroking his thumb down the bard’s soft cheek, following the tracks left by tears. He didn’t see the white wolf’s eyes, so soft and full of pain before they hardened with anger and hate as he turned and stalked out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see what Geralt was doing while Jaskier was recovering last chapter. A familiar face makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Geralt! This story is literally taking over my mind. I can't stop writing it. I hope you enjoy a glimpse into Geralt's thoughts on what happened! Please leave a comment or some kudos also I am my own beta so any errors you notice please let me know! Thank you all for your support!

Chapter 4

Geralt stumbled out of the room, the image of Jaskier’s abused and filthy body burned into his mind. To his even greater shame, he found his cock stirring at the sight, as if it still hadn’t had enough of the man. Geralt growled as he walked downstairs and over to the innkeeper who was just setting up for the morning. She lowered her eyes as he approached, face pale as she bid him a good morning.

“Witcher, will you be wanting food for you and your…companion?” She asked hesitatingly. Geralt bristled at the way she referred to Jaskier but was too upset in his role of what had been done to the man to speak on it.

“Have a bath brought up to my room. And a healer if he wants,” he grunted out as he fished for the coin on his belt. “Women only, and dinner if he asks for it. Do NOT disturb him any further than need be.” The innkeeper nodded quickly, taking the coin purse and motionedfor one of the young girls cleaning the tables to come over. Geralt nodded and walked out of the building, his skin crawling and heating up once more, but this time he headed in the direction of the nearby river, a few hours walk south of the town, rather than back into the inn.

It seemed that he would need to ride out this curse again. Cure, spell, illusion whatever it was Geralt needed to be far from Jaskier until he could determine it was safe to be near the bard once more. He already missed his sweet scent, that floral sweetness of his various perfumes and the natural scent of his clean skin and fresh sweat. Geralt practically fell to his knees as he thought of how soft his hair had felt, how hot and tight he had been – The witcher growled and shook his head, continuing forward to the cool river.

His willed his mind to quiet as he walked unfailingly toward the sound of running water, the sun shining down on him in the now late morning heat. His body was still hot, the hair on his skin standing on end as if he had been shocked with lightning. He tore his shirt and pants off before wading into the freezing water. The river ran down from the mountain, the water perpetually cold all year long. Geralt found that it helped and he dunked his head down, submerging his whole body until he sat on the riverbed. He closed his eyes and slipped into a quiet meditative state, feeling the heat start to dissipate, his mind beginning to clear. 

Before he could lose his breath he came back up and walked closer to the water’s edge, sitting down to allow himself to finish his meditation. Hours passed before he felt the final effects of the magic leave him. It was now late afternoon and Geralt sighed as he pulled on his clothes, still smelling of the bard, and began his walk back to the town. This time his mind raced as he thought of the best way to approach the mage. 

The townspeople had mentioned he had driven their men mad but none had mentioned anyone being physically hurt by the spells, but then they hadn’t mentioned they had tried to kill him either. Geralt needed to speak to the alderman and any of the villagers who had been in contact with the mage. With that decided his thoughts now turned to his bard. Geralt closed his eyes, hands clenching at his side as he tried to think of how to make this right to Jaskier. 

First he needed to kill the mage, which seemed to be more troublesome than first thought. He wondered if Yennefer would help him, despite their recent spat on the mountain. Once the mage was gone then he would go to the bard and beg his forgiveness, bring him the mage’s head on a silver platter. He would hold Jaskier and tell him how much he loved his singing and his beautiful eyes and dazzling smile and how much he wanted to just spend every night in his arms. Geralt froze as those last thoughts ran through his mind. He waited for the heat to start again under his skin, to feel the insatiable lust that ran through his body from the spell but nothing came. Those had been his thoughts, his own unfiltered and untampered thoughts. About Jaskier.

“Fuck.”

With this new revelation pushed frmly to the back of his mind, Geralt finally made his way to the little town, night had already fallen when he knocked on the aldreman’s door; the same small man from before answered, his eyes wide as he noticed Geralt. He took in his clean appearance and lack of swords and opened the door a bit wider, a question in his eyes.

“Witcher? Is it done?” Geralt pushed his way inside the little cottage, making the man yelp as he tried to stumble out of the way. The larger man turned and pinned the alderman to the door, his fist clasped tight on his shoulder forcing him still.

“You didn’t tell me everything.” Geralt gritted out, eyes staring the man down, daring him to lie again.

“Witcher I assure you…” Geralt slammed his fist into the door, missing the frightened man’s face by inches. “I m-may have left out s-some minor details?” He stammered a Geralt let him go, crossing his arms and lifting a brow for him to go on.

“We knew it was a mage, and we didn’t want none of their kind here in our town. When we didn’t hear nothing from the mill we gathered some coin to hire a band of men to drive them out. We never heard from them and assumed they had done the deed but then folk in the town started going crazy; lots of fist fights and people stealing things and just madness witcher!” The man’s eyes were wide and crazed as he recalled the townsfolk bouts of madness.

“The men you sent to kill him,” the alderman interrupted.

“Kill? Him?” Geralt nodded.

“They didn’t kill him or run him out. They tortured and raped him for days. This madness was your punishment.” The man grew pale and sat down heavily in his chair.

“Witcher I swear to you we never meant to cause more trouble, can you still help us?” 

“Your actions caused an innocent man, my friend, much pain. And now I will have to kill this mage as it seems he will not stop his revenge.” The alderman nodded, eyes heavy with worry. As Geralt opened the door to leave, the man stopped him with a soft hand on his arm.

“Witcher? I am sorry about your friend. Please feel free to stay in our town as long as he needs to recover.” Geralt was taken aback by this gesture. Most towns barely tolerated him for the amount of time it took to kill the monster torturing them, much less offering him lodging for his hurt bard. He nodded to the alderman before leaving.

I was decided, he couldn’t handle the mage alone. He needed Yennefer’s help. He made his way back to the inn and stopped to speak with innkeeper, her eyes wary as he approached.

“Witcher.” He sat down on a stool and watched as she poured him an ale. “Your boy was well looked after. The healer came by and food was brought up to him.” Geralt grunted as he finished the drink in one go, placing it down in front of her for a refill. She poured him another and he gulped it down again. After his fourth ale he felt he finally had the courage to go up to the room and gather his things to go find Yennefer.

“Witcher?” He stopped mid-rise and looked up at her. “We don’t allow our girls to be treated so rough, if you tire of your boy or wear him out too much, just so you know.”

“He’s not a whore,” he said, a deep growl rising in his chest. She looked at him in disbelief before turning around and helping another patron.

Geralt stood up and made his way to the room. There would be no correcting her, they had seen what he’d done to Jaskier apparently, probably heard him through the thin walls as he had begged Geralt to stop, to not hurt him. They could think hima monster, that was true, but he wouldn’t allow them to think Jaskier was a whore. He wasn’t a whore and Geralt wanted so much to scream it at the people in the inn who were eyeballing him, no doubt they had been told of his monstrous actions and wished to keep their distance. 

Geralt stomped up the stairs but walked quieter as he approached his and the bard’s shared room. He could hear the deep breathing of the sleeping man and he quietly opened the door to see Jaskier laid out in the other bed, the bruise caused by his hand a clear and harsh blemish on his otherwise unmarked face. The blankets and clothes covered up the rest of his body and to Geralt’s shame he could feel his face heat up at the thought of seeing the bard’s soft skin again. 

He shook the thought from his mind and dressed quickly, buckling his armor on and strapping his swords to his back, grabbing his pack of potions and a single vial left from his dalliances with Yennefer. If he broke it, it would create a portal to wherever she was allowing him to speak to her and enlist her help in bringing down the rogue sorcerer. They had used to before to meet up when they wanted to see each other but, now he wasn’t sure if it would even work as she had more or less told him to fuck off.

He took one last look at the younger man lying in the bed, his face open and so young looking in his rest. Geralt hoped it was a peaceful sleep and he took the opportunity to run his thumb down what looked to be tear tracks. At the sight of them he pulled back and vowed once more to kill the mage with his bare hands if he had to before leaving the room, begging a silent apology from Jaskier for leaving him alone once more.

After informing the innkeeper of the alderman’s promise to allow them to stay while Jaskier recovered, with the innkeeper’s skeptical face watching him the whole time, he left and made his way to the stable to check on Roach. She let out a small nicker when she saw him and he patted her down, taking comfort that something was not repulsed by his presence. He gave her one last pat, and a treat of sugar cubes that Jaskier always had in Geralt’s pack just for her, before making his way outside of town once more. 

Taking the bottle from his pack he hesitated only slightly before throwing it to the ground. The portal sprang up immediately and Geralt walked through, sending out a silent prayer that Yennefer was on the other side. He found himself in a large room, Yennefer’s face scowling at him from where she was sitting at a table making some type of potion.

“Geralt. Is there a reason you have chosen to bother me when I very clearly told you the last time we were together that I never wanted to see you again?” Geralt flinched before he walked over to the sorceress, trying to find the words he needed to convince her to help him.

“I hurt him Yen.” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she placed the herbs she had been holding down on to the table, turning to the witcher to give hi her attention.

“Hurt who, Geralt?”

“Jaskier,’ he rasped out, his emotions threatening to betray him.

“Your bard? Why? What happened, finally get tired of him following you around like the lost little flower he is?”

“I forced myself on him.” Yennefer sat quietly after this confession, taking in Geralt’s confused and sorrow filled eyes, his tense stance. 

“I see,” she said slowly. “Does he require healing? I have only a bit of skill with those particular arts but if he needs it?” Geralt shook his head.

“I need to kill the mage that made me do it.” Yennefer’s smile spread slowly, her eyes glinting with a ferocity the witcher had only seen a handful of times.

“That, I can do for you Geralt. Fill me in on the way. Let’s go witcher.” As she gathered a small travel pack, Geralt told her of the small town where they were staying and she conjured a portal, taking them both back to the edge of the small town and as they traveled, Geralt finally told Yennefer of his terrible crimes and the role the mage played.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mage's plan is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! I loved reading your theories and thoughts on whats going to happen. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. I am working on the next one which may or may not be the last chapter? I'm not sure yet these characters seem to speak their own minds once I start writing. Please leave a comment or kudos if you are enjoying!

Chapter 5

It was the silence that woke up Jaskier. In all of Jaskier’s life inns were never silent, sometimes too loud and sometimes a low murmur of noise but never completely silent. He lay still in the bed for a moment before realizing this and getting up slowly, hissing as the movement caused his bruises to ache; the softness of sleep making him almost forget about them. 

He looked around for Geralt and saw his armor and swords were gone, along with his potions pack. Jaskier could feel his heart clench in his chest at the thought that the witcher had left him, maybe now that he had finally gotten what he’d always wanted from the bard. He shut his eyes tight and turned to the door, the mere thought of the man leaving bringing tears to his eyes and Jaskier almost laughed that the idea that Geralt leaving hurt more than any bruise or scar on his body.

The quiet had the bard on alert and he decided to go investigate before thinking about the witcher consumed him completely. He slowly crept out the room, wondering where everyone was. The inn was dark, no candles or lanterns lighting the main room downstairs and the people that had filled it just yesterday were nowhere to be seen. Plates and mugs were still all out, food half eaten laying where the patrons had dropped them and obviously just left. Jaskier puzzled over the empty inn before he paused, hearing a low murmur from outside.

Wide eyed, Jaskier stepped outside to see what looked like the entire town gathered in the square, the square’s lanterns lit and blazing bright to show a young man standing on a small platform in the middle of the crowd. Jaskier crept forward and hid in the shadow of a nearby doorway, watching quietly as the young man began to speak, a cruel grin on his face.

“Thank you all for gathering here. Of course you had no choice but that is neither here nor there. I have brought you here to watch as I perform my greatest feat yet and it will only take all you villagers to accomplish! I thank all of you for volunteering for this.” Jaskier watched as the mage began to chant, his hands making complicated movements in the air as if gathering the air towards him. It was only when the villagers began to faint that the bard realized what the man was doing.

Jaskier rushed forward, knocking the mage down as he tackled him. The mage stared up in shock as Jaskier tried to pin him down before his eyes narrowed and he sent the bard flying, knocking the wind out of him. Blue yes met dark brown as the mage dusted himself off and walked towards Jaskier, a curious expression on his face.

“Why were you not affected? Who are you? Wait…” The mage’s face lit up as he took in Jaskier’s face. “You’re with that witcher. Well where is he? Did my magic drive him mad, abandoning you and this village to their fate hm?” Jaskier only shook his head as he tried to scramble away before the mage’s magic caught him, dragging him as the mage walked back to the middle of the town square where the villagers all stood like living corpses with vacant eyes and limp limbs. 

He dragged Jaskier kicking and flailing to the platform, binding his hands with magic as he forced him to kneel down, wanting a better look at the man who had ensnared a witcher’s heart. The bard was flushed from his struggles, breath coming in quick shallow pants as he fought the invisible binds. His eyes were a striking blue, the mage thought and he couldn’t help but push back the chocolate locks that hid the man’s sweet face from view. 

Jaskier flinched back from the touch and the mage frowned as he noticed a deep bruise on his cheek, his eyes taking in the ring of bruises around his swollen throat. The sorcerer tutted as he brought his hands up, bright with magic, and pressed them to the bound man’s throat making Jaskier whimper. His magic shone with a white light before he finally removed his hands, the swelling now almost gone and leaving only now faded bruises on the tender skin.

“There, now we can have a decent conversation little bard. Tell me, where is your witcher? I admit I thought he would either have been driven insane or that he would have left this little village to its fate. But here you are, and in such a sad state too.” Jaskier coughed a few times, clearing his throat and allowing his body to create enough water to wet it so he could speak.

“Wha-what have you done to them?” He rasped out as he stared up at the mage. The curly haired man laughed, eyes dark and grin sharp as he swept an arm out towards the crowd of enchanted villagers.

“They will be used for a higher purpose now little bard. Their very essence will make me the strongest mage ever known. And no one will ever DARE to lay their filthy hands on me again!” The mage was all but shouting by the end of his rant, Jaskier cowering as the air around them swirled violently.

“Please, please let them go.” Jaskier begged and the man eyed the bard, confusion in his eyes.

“Why do you care so much? After all the trouble they have caused you, you mean to tell me you wanted to be strangled and bruised? I can practically smell your shame; I know they hurt you like they hurt me. Tell me which of these animals did it; I can hurt them for you?” He ran a finger down Jaskier’s bruised cheek, chuckling as the blue-eyed man shook his head and glared up at the mage. 

“It was no villager, they have been nothing but kind to me.”

“Then how came these marks?” Here Jaskier faltered, unwilling to reveal his hurt, so recent and fresh it still was. He shut his eyes tight willing away the image of a feral Geralt, lost to lust and some kind of deep hunger Jaskier didn’t know he’d had.

“H-He was not hi-himself…” Jaskier whispered blue eyes wide and wet as he stared up at the mage, and realization finally crossed the man’s face.

“The witcher?” 

  
  


Geralt led Yennefer to the old mill, telling the story of how he had tried to confront the mage and instead had been bespelled to attack and rape his bard companion. Yennefer watched him struggle and actually pause in his walking as he recounted how Jaskier in the end had flinched from his help. 

“I left, I could feel the magic in my veins. I feel it still sometimes Yen, it aches for his touch and I refuse to confront him before I can rid it of my body completely, before I can beg his forgiveness.” 

“Geralt,” Yennefer said carefully, “Has it occurred to you that the magic is gone? I don’t sense any lingering effects from the spell.” Geralt shook his head in denial.

“There has to be. Why else would I still feel this way?” Geralt lifted confused amber eyes to meet Yennefer’s knowing violet ones, and he turned away quickly as understanding began to creep into his mind.

“I see it has become a little clearer to you?” 

“Yen,” Geralt murmured, voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t name, didn’t want to just yet. “I can’t.” Yennfer rolled her eyes, not unkindly, and gestured for them to continue walking.

“Please put aside your recently found emotions until we finish this. I need you focused, this mage sounds quite powerful and we will both be needed to take him down. A pity he seems to have gone quite mad after everything that’s happened, he would have made an excellent ally.” Yennfer mused as the mill came into view. 

Geralt drew his silver sword, not taking any chances, and they both approached the doors quietly. Stepping inside, the first thing they noticed was the distinct lack of magic in the air. Geralt and Yennefer walked to the room where the mage had lived, research paper strewn about the floor and on a small table near a now smoldering fireplace.

“What was he doing here?”Yennefer asked as she picked up some of his notes, reading through them. Geralt shrugged as he checked the room for any sign of the sorcerer.

“He said he studied illusion magic and mind manipulation.” Yennefer’s eyes widened as she analyzed the research information the mage had left.

“Geralt! Listen to this,” Yennefer recited from a well written page.

“I will not be weak like that ever again. No one will ever dare to touch me after this ritual is completed. I will be the most powerful mage on the continent, and this village will pay with their lives for the suffering they have caused. I will take their lives and use them to make myself invincible.” Geralt sighed.

“Fuck.”

“He’s going after the entire village.” Yennefer looked up at the witcher, who was staring down at his fist clenched tight around his sword handle. He looked back up at the sorceress, face grim.

“He told me he would take down the whole world for what those men did to him.” Yennefer and Geralt’s eyes met and they nodded as they left the mill. Making their way quickly back to the village, Geralt laid out a plan to kill the mage.

“You think you can keep him busy while I attack?” Yennfer frowned but tossed her hair as she replied.

“Geralt my darling, you doubt my powers now? Just be sure to make it quick, if he has already started the ritual he will already be stronger than he was before. And if he was strong enough to enchant you then he was no louse before.” Geralt nodded and before long they both could see firelight, signaling the village was close.

They both made their way to the village square, where it seemed the mage had gathered the villagers together under some sort of spell. Geralt’s mind immediately remembered Jaskier had been in the inn sleeping and as they crept closer he searched the crowd for sign of him before he heard Yennefer gasp and he followed her line of sight to the platform in the middle of the crowd. 

The mage stood upon the wooden platform and next to him was Jaskier, kneeling down looking up at the mage with fear and anger. The bard was bound with magic and Geralt strained to hear their conversation, even with his hearing their soft voices were barely discernible. 

“Why do you care so much? After all the trouble they have caused you, you mean to tell me you wanted to be strangled and bruised? I can practically smell your shame; I know they hurt you like they hurt me. Tell me which of these animals did it; I can hurt them for you?” 

Geralt growled as the mage ran a finger down Jaskier’s bruised cheek, the same cheek he had run his thumb down not too long ago. Yennfer placed a hand on his arm and Geralt realized he had been walking forward before the sorceress stopped him. She shook her head and continued to watch, indicating the witcher should as well. They needed to catch him off guard and rushing in there right now would only cause more harm, especially if the bard was his prisoner.

“It was no villager, they have been nothing but kind to me.”

“Then how came these marks?” Here Geralt watched as tears filled Jaskier’s eyes, and Geralt had to clench his own shut as he listened to the bard whisper his answer.

“H-He was not hi-himself…” 

“The witcher?” The mage asked in confusion. “Why would he attack you? Unless….ah I see.” The mage now looked slightly distraught and Jaskier eyed him warily as he began to pace, a frown marring his otherwise perfect features.

“The spell wasn’t supposed to…I never meant….let me see, bard.” Geralt had to hold himself back as the mage reached out a hand and placed it on the bandage covering the bite-mark the witcher had left on the previously unblemished shoulder. He was shocked however when the mage placed a glowing hand on the wound, leaving only a mouth shaped bruise and the ghost of a scar. Jaskier looked up at the mage in wonder, searching the man’s face for some reason as to why he was being so kind to him.

“Why?” The mage looked away from the piercing blue gaze of the young bard, unwilling to show the shame that had filled his own eyes.

“Because this was my fault little bard, I did this to you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of the mage and the village is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all once again for the lovely comments! I'm thrilled my little story has captured y'all's interest and I appreciate all the support.  
> Please know that I'm a liar and this is definitely not the last chapter. It kind of got away from me and even tho the pacing seems off to me I hope you enjoy it. Please drop a comment or kudos if you are enjoying and thank you again!

Chapter 6

Jaskier’s eyes were wide as plates as he listened to the mage’s confession. He had known something seemed off with Geralt, but for the mage to bewitch him to assault him like that? Jaskier swallowed as fear began to creep into his mind. If the mage was capable of such cruelty maybe this humble bard was in over his head.

“I merely gave him a nudge towards the one thing he desired the most. I didn’t realize that was you, I didn’t realize the spell would be so…effective.” The mage crouched down to look Jaskier in the eyes, the bard cringing back at how close he was. The mage frowned and sighed again.

“I never meant for someone to get hurt like that, like how I…what those men did... Can’t you see the village needs to be punished? I was bothering no one in the old mill; I just wanted to continue my research in peace!” The mage seemed to be pleading with Jaskier, dark eyes begging for some kind of forgiveness.

“I-I understand how you feel,” Jaskier said softly, blue eyes soft and scared. “People can be cruel, especially to other people. What was done to you cannot be undone, but please there are innocent men and women and children in this village.” The mage scowled and stood back up, coldly turning from Jaskier.

“There are no innocents my little bard, not even you are innocent, hm?” Here he turned to look down at Jaskier who trembled under the piercing gaze of the powerful man. “Are you not friends with the Witcher sent to kill me?” Jaskier swallowed hard as he thought of an answer that wouldn’t get him killed but was saved from having to speak when the mage was thrown from the platform, a wave of magic pushing him meters ahead onto the ground. 

Jaskier turned to see Yennefer chanting as she powered up another spell with her hands and Geralt with his sword drawn, both walking towards the fallen mage. But the man was not easily defeated and he quickly stood up, sending a wave of magic to Yennefer who pushed back with her own power. The backlash of the two forces caused a small explosion in mid-air and Jaskier was thrown into a nearby villager standing by the platform. 

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, rushing to the sidelines to try and escape his bonds. The crowd was still under the mage’s spell, the bard realized when no one was moving from the waves of power being thrown around by the two magic-wielders. Jaskier strained but the mage’s magic held tight and he was forced to watch as Geralt and Yennefer tried to bring down the sorcerer.

“You would try to stop me? These people don’t deserve your pity, your mercy. They would have done the same to you if it had been you in my stead here,” the mage shouted at Yennefer as he dodged another of her attacks. Geralt stalked on the outside of the fight, waiting for his in when he spotted Jaskier trying his best to avoid the fight. He rushed over unthinkingly and was stopped suddenly when Jaskier recoiled at his approach.

“Jaskier, stay out of this.” Geralt grunted out as he tried to usher the bard further into the village away from the square.

“G-Geralt th-the villagers, he’s going to…”

“We’ll stop him.” Geralt turned away from the bard and rushed into the fight, his head clouded with the sweet scent of the younger man, his anger at being made to hurt him filling his mind.

“Geralt wait!” Yennefer yelled trying to avoid hitting the witcher as he charged at the mage, sword high and fangs bared. The amge merely swept him to the side before sending a wave of electricity towards Yennefer, who screamed as the power coursed through her body before she collapsed from the pain.

“You are both so weak, and once I take the lives of every single villager then there will be no one alive who can stop me! No one will ever make me feel powerless again!” The mage’s eyes were crazed as he climbed back up on the platform and began his ritual once more. Yennefer and Geralt were out cold and Jaskier was now alone.

“Wait! Please wait! Please stop! You’re killing them!” He watched in horror as one by one each villager collapsed, the very essence of life drained from them. Darkness crept over the sky and the air grew thick, the wind beginning to lash around them as thunder boomed in the bard’s ears. He looked up, startled as the mage walked to him, his eyes wild and a manic grin on his face.

“Little bard, join me. I will conquer the Continent and you will sing my praises. I will strike down all the wicked and weak men of this world! Chaos will reign and I will be its wielder!” The storm thrashed around them, threatening to tear the roofs off of the nearby buildings; pulling at the surrounding trees, making them strain against the rain darkened earth.

“Please listen to me,” Jaskier shouted, struggling to stay standing in the storm. “You don’t have to do this, you can be better than them. Spare the villagers, move on. Don’t let this be your legacy, revenge will not change what has already happened. You can still be a force for good to these people.” The mage’s brow furrowed as he listened to the bard’s pleas, the wind dying down and the sky clearing. He seemed to be on the precipice of something when Jaskier saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Geralt, no!” A flash of silver and the mage was stunned to see the witcher standing in front of him, silver sword dripping with blood. And between them was the bard, a dark red slash across his chest, staining his shirt and the ground beneath him as it started to drip down his skin. Jaskier stared at Geralt with wide eyes, the witcher’s own golden gaze staring right back in shock and horror. 

The injured bard stumbled back, right into the arms of the stunned mage. He held the bard as Jaskier slid to the ground, chanting a short spell to undo his binds. Jaskier coughed and blood fell from his mouth, with his hands now free he brought one up to touch his chest, hissing as he felt just how deep the wound was. His hearing was fuzzy but he could make out some mumbling coming from the mage’s mouth. He looked up and gave him a cheeky grin, red stained teeth flashing at the stricken man.

“You fool, what have you done? Why did you do that?” The mage whispered as if to himself as he attempted to use magic to heal the wound. Geralt threw himself down next to the two men, his eyes taking in the wound.

“Jaskier,” he choked out, “I...why did…help him please!” Geralt directed this last line to the mage who was working already on healing the rather extensive wound.

“Wait….villagers….” Jaskier turned cornflower blues up to the mage, who faltered as he stared down at the bard.

“I can’t save them and you little bard.” Geralt growled and grabbed at the mage’s tunic, forcing him to look at the witcher.

“You will save him or I will remove your head from your shoulders mage.” 

“Geralt! Villagers!” Jaskier gasped, blood spewing from his mouth a he grasped as Geralt’s arm. Geralt let go of the sorcerer turning back to his fallen companion. He grabbed Jaskier from the mage’s hands with force but not ungently, trying to find a way to stop the bleeding.

“No, no Jaskier he will save you. He has to!” Jaskier shook his head before smiling up at the witcher.

“Wasn’t…you…I’m glad…wasn’t you…” Geralt stared down at the bard in confusion before Jaskier passed out from the loss of blood.

“Mage! Do something!” The mage shook his head, blood stained hands trembling as he stared at the man who had risked his life for him.

“He wanted me to spare them; he gave his life for me and would give his life for them now. Witcher, who is he?” Geralt’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down at Jaskier, so pale and quiet.

“He’s the best man I have ever had the privilege to know.” The mage nodded and walked over to the where the villagers had fallen, beginning the spell to return what he had stolen. Geralt watched in silence, holding his bard close. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he had to make up for. He had sworn that he would beg forgiveness from the bard, and instead he was begging the man not to leave him.

“Jaskier please, wake up bard.”

Geralt!” Yennefer ran to the pair sprawled out on the ground, her hands already working on stopping the flow of blood from the wound.

“Yennefer!” In the commotion Geralt had almost forgotten about the sorceress and relief crossed his face as he realized Jaskier may still have a chance.

“Can you save him?” Yennefer ignored him, focusing all her concentration on healing their fallen companion.

“I can.” Geralt looked up at the dark haired mage, glancing around he saw the villagers all standing up, confusion marring their faces as they took in the destruction from the storm and the fight. The mage came to kneel down with Yennefer, her face now pale and sweaty as she poured her magic into the bard’s body.

“Let me.” Yennefer glanced over at Geralt who nodded his head before sitting back with a sharp sigh, cutting off the flow of magic which she had been harnessing using her own force. The villagers had crowded around now and they watched as the mage fought to save the bard lying in the witcher’s arms. 

The mage chanted a spell Yennefer had never heard before, and she watched in wonder as Jaskier’s wounds healed, color returning to the bard’s face. Geralt let out a sigh of relief as he checked over the younger man, and to his surprise finding not so much as a bruise on the bard’s now perfect skin. He was too focused on Jaskier to notice the crowd of villagers murmuring and even clapping at seeing the young man’s life be saved.

When the last of the magic left the man’s hands, Yennefer then watched as the mage collapsed, his skin a sickly grey color and his chaos nothing but a dull hum. She leaned over him, checking for breath and gave him a light slap when she found it. He woke up groggily and immediately turned his face to Jaskier, eyes roaming over the area where Geralt’s sword had sliced him open.

“The bard?” Yennefer looked down at him with what was almost approval.

“He will live, no thanks to your spell. What did you do? That wound was fatal and even I was hard pressed to so much as stop the bleeding, much less heal it completely.” The mage cleared his throat as he looked up at Yennefer from where he lay, eyes then meeting Geralt’s sharp gaze. He sat up slowly, limbs still shaky from the toll his body had endured casting the spell and looked down at Jaskier, eyes soft with some emotion Geralt couldn’t name.

“It’s a spell that requires a great sacrifice, my magic. I gave up my magic, in exchange for the bard’s life. It was only fair, when he was dying because of me,” Here he looked right at the witcher. “Not when it was my fault that you attacked him, hurt him.” The witcher growled at the confession but still nodded at the man before turning back to Jaskier.

“He needs to rest Geralt, let’s take him to the inn.” The witcher picked up the bard, cradling him like a precious object, something fragile and loved. Yennefer and Geralt froze as the alderman stepped forward from the crowd that now surrounded them.

“Please witcher, mage,” The alderman glanced down at the previous sorcerer who had wreaked havoc on their town, “All of you. Please on behalf of the town we offer our sincere apologies and anything you need we offer it to you freely.” The man walked up to the dark haired mage still kneeling on the ground and offered him an arm up. The mage eyed the arm suspiciously, hesitant to take it.

“My good sir, please accept this apology on behalf of our people. The men we hired…we did not know…they were never mean to harm you. As a token of our sorrow and at my behest, please stay and make our town your humble home. The mill is yours and none will bother you I swear it.” The sorcerer sat stunned before a watery smile crossed his face and he took the arm offered by the alderman. As he stood he offered a more sincere smile to the witcher and the mage and the alderman, and with a small bow finally introduced himself.

“Please, call me Antoni. And I must apologize as well, if not for our mutual friend here, I don’t think any of us would still be around.” The crowd cheered as the alderman and the mage shook hands. 

The crowd stayed in the square, the alderman declaring it a day of celebration as the night had passed and morning was now in full bloom. Geralt and Yennefer walked the short distance to the inn with Antoni and the alderman, Josef, the witcher holding the still unconscious bard. There they lay the bard down in a new, clean room and Yennefer and the two men left the witcher and Jaskier alone. Geralt pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat, waiting for the bard to wake up.

There was so much he needed to say and nothing was going to keep him from telling the bard exactly what he thought of him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pleas for forgiveness and a good amount of fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew ok this fic has been soooo much fun and I kind of broke my heart writing this last chapter. I'm thinking of doing a sequel? Would anyone be interested? Thank you all for encouraging me to continue this. What started as quite a dark one shot turned into something so different and I loved working on it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 7

Yennefer sighed as she made her way down to the inn’s first floor, leaving a solemn Geralt to watch over the bard. Jaskier would recover splendidly from his wounds, whether he would recover from what Geralt had done to him was another matter entirely. Speaking of…

“Mage. Antoni?” Yennefer asked as she approached him sitting at a table with the alderman. Both men looked to be in deep conversation, somber looks on both of their faces. The alderman nodded at Antoni and left with a quiet ‘My Lady’ as he passed Yennefer. She sat down opposite the younger mage, her face a blank mask as he stared at the dark eyed man. He fidgeted once and looked away before looking back at her, hurt and barely concealed anger in his gaze.

“If you have come to take revenge, I cannot stop you if I wanted to,” He laughed humorlessly as he attempted to conjure even the smallest of spells with no success. Yennefer felt a small stab of pity for the man as he smiled at her, the small grin not even reaching his eyes.

“While Geralt and I had come to take revenge for your part in hurting his bard, I do not think Jaskier would be terribly happy if he woke to find you dead. He did risk his life for yours after all,” She finished dryly.

“His bard, hmm? That explains his obsession with the boy. Why the spell went sideways I suppose,” He said morosely, a guilty looks on his face.

“Yes well, Geralt is a deeply passionate person, under the stink of monster guts and the carefully crafted boring persona he has put on for the world.” Yennefer sighed as she motioned to a passing serving girl for a drink.

The inn was still quiet, most villagers still gathered at the square, but the innkeeper and her girls had come back to prepare food and drink for the impromptu festival declared by the alderman. Yennefer watched them scurry around, thanking the girl who brought her ale to her. She sipped it as she watched the mage, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I suppose since you did save Jaskier, I can let some things pass.” The relief on his face was quickly replaced with a look of sincere gratitude and regret.

“I never…I never meant to hurt him. I was angry, yes. At the villagers, at those men who had used me and hurt me…at the world I suppose. But I never wanted…” Yennefer watched quietly as Antoni took a deep breath, “I don’t suppose I deserve his forgiveness, or the witcher’s, for what I did to them.”

“No, don’t suppose you do. But if I know that annoying bard, he has already forgiven you.” She stood up and drained the last of her ale, leaving the once mage with some parting words. “It’s Geralt who you will be hard pressed to win over.” 

She made her way up to the room where Jaskier was laying, Geralt still sitting by his side. Jaskier’s face was soft and open in his rest, eyelashes fluttering every so often against his upper cheek where they lay. Yennefer felt herself soften as she watched as Geralt stroked one thumb across the sleeping bard’s lips before sighing and looking towards Yennefer standing in the doorway.

“Yen,” he said gruffly giving her a quick look before fixing his gaze back on the sleeping man.

“He looks well, not a bruise on him.” Geralt’s face tightened at her observations.

“All evidence of my abuse wiped away,” he said disgustedly as he jerked back fromJaskier, leaning back in the chair as if afraid to get any closer. Yennefer grabbed another chair and sat next to him; taking in the bard’s sleeping form. He was rather pretty, she could see the basic appeal. And yet, Geralt had seen something even further under Jaskier’s boyish good lucks and often cheesy charm. Or maybe, as she looked to the quiet witcher, Jaskier had seen something first and Geralt had responded in kind.

“The thing I did to him Yen,”Geralt choked out finally, the silence near unbearable at that point to him, “what I still want to do to him. He will hate me if I tell him how much I want to just…” Here the witcher’s limited vocabulary seemed to fail him and he stood up quickly. Yennefer watched as he began to strip off his armor, leaving himself covered in only a bare shirt and pants.

“Geralt I don’t know your bard half as well as you do, but he knows that wasn’t you. What you did to him, Antoni will tell him and I know he will forgive you.” Geralt groaned and ran an exhausted hand down his face.

“Should he though Yen? What if this happens again? What if I can’t hold myself back now that I have had him? Gods, even now my hands itch to hold him.” Yennfer laughed at this and was met with Geralt’s scowling face.

“Oh Geralt, still as emotionally stunted as a turnip aren’t you? Tell him you love him.” Geralt’s jaw actually dropped, his face flushed a bright pink before he composed himself.

“Yen, I can’t just tell him that! I nearly killed him with my cock!” He hissed out quietly, glancing at Jaskier to make sure he was still sleeping. The mage rolled her eyes as she reached out to brush a lock of hair away from Jaskier’s face, ignoring Geralt’s indignant noise when she did so.

“He loves you. I’ve known that for quite some time now,” she said quietly as she leaned back away from him again. “I was jealous for a while, but was content in knowing that I had you, that you were mine and not his. But now, I know I never had you, not really.” Geralt looked at her, eyes pained.

“Yennefer, I…”

“No Geralt,” she cut him off, blinking away the small amount of moisture that had gathered in her eyes, “I am still upset from our last spat, but knowing this now maybe I can start to forgive you.” They both turned as Jaskier let out a soft sigh, eyelashes fluttering as he began to wake.

“I will leave you two alone.” She stood up and as she passed by him, she placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t fuck this up again Geralt. Maybe it’s time you forgave yourself as well?” She left and Geralt was alone as Jaskier’s bright blue eyes finally opened and met Geralt’s own amber gaze. Geralt flinched as he saw the quick look of fear pass through Jaskier’s eyes before the bard turned his gaze down and took in the state of himself.

Blood stained his shirt and pants, his own blood, he winced as he remembered Geralt’s sword going through his stomach. The aches and bruises from the night when…well from that night so long ago were gone, he brought his hands up to his neck to find it healed. Jaskier sat up and ran a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat as he finally looked up at Geralt who had stood quietly while Jaskier had taken stock of himself.

“Geralt,” he said quietly, hands fidgeting with bottom of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier sat as Geratl spoke, his deep voice the only sound in the room.

“Jaskier, what I did. I know you might never forgive me but I, know I would never have…I would never hurt you like that. I will never hurt you like that again.” He said with finality as he closed his eyes tight. Jaskier merely sat on the bed, soaking in the witcher’s words. The silence grew and Geralt became anxious.

“Please, say something,” he pleaded softly.

“I’m in love with you.” Geralt felt his throat lock up as Jaskier’s steady gaze met his own. The bard laughed a little, the sound sad as he continued.

“I know. I should have told you but I liked things the way they were, and then the mountain happened and I was so scared to lose you. I didn’t want you to leave me. I would have done anything to keep you and then that night...” Geralt made a small noise in the back of his throat at the mention of their ‘night’ together. Jaskier watched as Geralt walked slowly to the bed, giving the bard a chance to shoo him away, and sat down in the chair closest to him.

“Please, forgive me.” Geralt said as he bowed his head, his hands clenched tightly around each other on his lap. He startled as he felt Jaskier’s soft palms cover his and looked up with wet eyes into cornflower blue, a sad smile on the bard’s face.

“Geralt,” he said as he brought the witcher’s hands up, and Geralt’s breath caught as he laid a soft kiss on the knuckles of each one. 

“Geralt, my darling if you don’t know by now I have to tell you there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you. I forgave you the minute you left.” Geralt let out a sob and suddenly Jaskier’s hands were rubbing his back and though his hair as the bard brought him into a soft hug, his voice gentle as he shushed Geralt who hadn’t even realized he’d started crying. Jaskier urged Geralt onto the bed and he lay there and sobbed, curled around the bard with his face pressed into the bard’s bloody shirt, fingers running though his hair as he started to hum a song Geralt hadn’t heard before.

Time passed slowly as Geralt’s tears dried up and he lay quietly for a bit just enjoying the feel of the man beneath him, the sound of his steady breathing and calming scent filling Geralt and washing through him like a healing spell. Geralt suddenly looked up at Jaskier from his place on the bard’s stomach. He smiled back down at him and Geralt was seized with the strong urge to kiss the bard, kiss him until they were breathless and the world around them faded away.

“I love you," he said quietly as stroked his thumb down Jaskier’s cheek. The younger man smiled down at him and brought him up slowly for a chaste kiss, making Geralt whimper. His hands clutched tightly to Jaskier, afraid once he let him go the man would disappear, as he attempted to deepen the kiss. Jaskier gasped and Geralt pulled back, concern in his eyes, while Jaskier’s eyes filled with tears as he backed away from Geralt’s touch.

“Just this for now, please Geralt just this, I’m sorry, please?” This time it was Geralt who shushed Jaskier and took the bard’s face in his hands, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“Jaskier, never apologize to me for this. Never,” he said softly but firmly. Jaskier nodded and this time he smiled as Geralt brought a sweet kiss to his forehead.

“Just this is just fine.” Jaskier hummed quietly in response and they lay back down together, Geralt’s head once more on Jaskier’s stomach. He brought his hand up and interwined his fingers with Jaskier’s and they lay quietly as the day passed, the faint sounds of the village celebration floating in from the window and Geralt thought he had never felt more at peace.


End file.
